and the fates will smile upon us
by sanskrits
Summary: — for it is our throne and our kingdom and our insanity / dark!jiper, unrelated, nonlinear, and completely nonsensical (formerly called throne)
1. ONE - SERVANTS

**ONE - SERVANTS**

⁂⁂⁂

Servants. They're all _servants_ , and will never be anything more than servants. They're the best servants anyone can ask for—because their loyalty is guaranteed. And your voice is all that they can listen to, your voice is _law_ , and nobody can contradict it.

Charmspeak—what a wonderful thing! It makes your voice important. It makes your voice heard. And your voice will never be drowned out by another sound ever again; your voice is _loud_.

"Keep watch on the prisoners," you tell one, pointing to them. They hurriedly nod, and scurry off to do your bidding.

"And you," you point to another servant on the ground, "feed them."

"Give the rest water," you tell the last servant. "But don't give any to the son of the sea god. No water for him."

They're all so small, on the ground. You sit high with your head up on your golden throne. And you smile. Because you've managed to trick them all. And they're all imprisoned in the very place they called _home_ —hah! What a farce, it is, the word 'home'.

Their voices were too small for you anyways. The children of those minor gods, the children no one cared about, the lost, the unclaimed, they are your _servants._ Now they have a use, they're not just wasting oxygen.

A pure waste of oxygen was that Jason. You loved him. You offered to make him your king. He should have been your _king_. But he declined, he went to that prison with the others. And so everyday he gets the least food and the most torment.

" _Stop this, Piper_ ," he had said. " _I'm your friend. I don't want this to happen to you. Come back, before it's too late."_

" _No,"_ you had insisted. " _I will have a throne. I will be the queen."_

The son of Hephaestus had been forced to make the throne. _Your throne_.

" _What are you willing to do, Piper, to get a throne?"_ Leo had asked.

" _Anything_ ," you replied.

" _Okay, then,"_ he submitted. " _You'll get your throne. You'll be the queen. But the rest of them live,"_ he tried to negotiate.

And you had smiled shrewdly. " _I don't plan on killing them,_ " you had told him. " _Their fates will be worse than death."_

Thoughtfully, you stroke the arm of your throne. Then you think of Jason, of _him_ , he who had betrayed you to be with his friends. Your face contorts into a sneer, and you point at one of the many servants in the rows of slaves who have aligned themselves in a bow facing your throne.

None of them can look you in the eye—they are too weak. And those who _could_ look you in the eye, the strong, the ones with the powerful parents, were all taken to the prisons to rot, because they are all more powerful than you know. You stay with what you know.

"You," you keep pointing at the servant, whose head is still down in reverence, in submission. "Go bring tormentors for the son of Jupiter."

He squeaks, nodding, and hurries off for torture specialists. The torture specialists arrive, empty-handed, waiting for you to order them how to best get under his skin.

"Water," you order. "He will not like water. He is the son of Jupiter."

They bow and leave.

⁂⁂⁂

You walk through the dingy prison, stone walls a murky gray and forlorn faces watching you everywhere. But there is only one person that you are here to see. She was too intelligent. She would have wormed her way out of the prison if she was in a standard cell.

You open the door to her cell with the key, then walk in and close the door again. You see her, blonde hair matted and a little bit dirty, gray eyes dimmed. She sits, chained to the bed.

Her cell is all white. The bed is white and the walls are white and everything is white—like one of those cells from the movies where the insane are locked in white rooms.

She sees you, regards you with those gray eyes sparkling with intelligence.

When she speaks, her tone is emotionless, her face devoid of any expression.

"Hello, Piper." her voice is cold and emotionless and hard and hostile all at the same time.

You nod in recognition. "Annabeth."

"You know, one day I will get out," she says casually, "One day you'll go down, Piper, one day you won't be queen."

You take no notice of her words (or pretend to at least; the sincerity of her tone is unnerving) because you know that she's trying to bring you down with words.

"Will I?"

She smiles, a bright, big, insane smile, "Of course."

You chuckle humorlessly. "You used to be wise, but now you're just delusional."

"So, tell me, are the screams from the other room _delusional_? The walls are soundproof but I can hear them all the same. Tell me, are the gurgles, the chokes, of that water torture you're using on Jason _delusional?_ Tell me, Piper, is the pain and suffering of the other demigods' sleep _delusional_? If so, then yes, I am delusional, Piper. But I am not wrong—I am the daughter of Athena. You insult my intelligence, but _I know, Piper. I am wise, Piper_."

And with that, you know what you have not yet confirmed.

"That is all the answer I need. Thank you for your help, Annabeth."

She only smiles at you, that maddening, insane smile, like she knew what you were thinking all along.

⁂⁂⁂

Needless to say, you aren't very surprised when some servants come up to you, shivering, and tell you that there has been a mass breakout from the prisons.

All you do is say, "Let it be," and they retreat. You don't need to be angry because you know who orchestrated it.

Annabeth Chase.

⁂⁂⁂


	2. TWO - SEAL THE DEAL

**TWO - SEAL THE DEAL**

⁂⁂⁂

"Be my king," you tell him. You can see it in his face—sense it—he's contemplating. On one hand there are his friends, the one he's been through wars with, and on the other hand there's you, the woman he loves.

"Choose, Jason."

The confusion, the conflicting emotions are so evident in his demeanor, and you feel a little bit sorry—but not too much, because you're the queen and he'll be your king.

He'll be your king.

Finally, you see the rigid determination on his face, the determination that says I can't back out now, the determination that says you can't change your mind, the determination that says my decision is final.

"Okay," he says in a small voice. Then, he says it louder,

"Okay. I'll be your king and you can be my queen and we can rule together."

You smile; not the fake, plastic smile you've been using with everyone else, but a real smile, because you're positively beaming because he agreed. For a moment, you'll admit that you thought he'd side with the others. The strong ones. (But apparently love was the strongest of all, and you'd know that wouldn't you, daughter of love?)

And in this moment all you need to do is stare into his eyes—and you know that he wants to be with you.

"Let's seal the deal," you say breathily, "properly."

You jump forward and press your lips to his, and the feeling is warm, and soft, and shocking, and just overall electric and you're kind of cold even though he's so warm—maybe it's just because he has a way with the winds—but you don't mind, because you wouldn't have it any other way.

And when you pull apart, breathless, noses connected, hearts connected, you both smile, and his clear blue eyes are filled with mirth and love and it's just gorgeous.

This moment makes you know that when you rule, you'll rule well, and when you're queen and he's king, he won't leave your side. This moment is your moment.

And maybe your voice won't be as loud as it would have been alone without Jason, because his presence on your dais drowns it out a little, but when he speaks your voices connect and intermingle and the voices are louder than they could ever be alone, and you would gladly give up that extra octave of sound for Jason, because without him you're empty. With him you're warm and cold and safe and dangerous and electric and lulled all at the same time, and you love it.

Your kingdom will be a kingdom of voices, your voice, Jason's voice. The voices of those you need to imprison, the voices of the strong, and the voices of the unclaimed, the voices of the servants.

But their voices are barely whispers compared to yours—echoes of previous volume, and your voice will drown out all the whispers—they'll have a perpetual case of laryngitis.

And in this kingdom of voices you'll have a crown on your head and people at your feet and you'll sit on a throne and you'll love it. In this kingdom of voices you'll be the queen and he'll be the king and nobody else matters, they can go to Tartarus for all you care.

"Let's get on making that kingdom," you say to him.

He smiles in response.

⁂⁂⁂

For the past few months it's all been secret—strategizing and building power-dampening cuffs (thanks to some Hephaestus kids who knew that there was a Bunker Eight) and building prisons in secret places like Bunker Seven and building your throne room with your golden throne in Bunker One. Annabeth wouldn't even be able to see it coming, nobody would; none of them even seemed the least suspicious.

There's a dash more charmspeak in your words than ever before, and you keep them all in check. You know what to do and you know how to do it, and today is the day you're going to do it.

You and Jason are the captains of the Capture-The-Flag teams. You give them all the cuffs—tell them it will strengthen their powers, and to the Athena cabin you tell them it will magnify their wisdom. They ask how and you tell them "the Hephaestus Cabin, and it was a surprise for Leo" with a big smile and they all lap it up like little dogs. They put on the cuffs at an instant and then you take them out to "get dressed in armor". You catch Jason's eye and he smiles slightly, and you say that the armory was a little too small so you've put all the armor somewhere else because this is going to be a big game! And they follow you and then they go to the prison in Bunker Seven and you tell them to look for the armor in the rooms because "we've sorted it all out". And they all go in!

Then the doors close on their own, and they're locked in, and they're trying to get out but nobody can do anything and even the Athena cabin is powerless.

You smirk evilly.  
"Welcome to the kingdom, where we will rule," you say, and put an arm around Jason.

"I'm the king," says Jason, "and Piper is my queen."

"And you—" you point to the unclaimed and minor gods' children who came to spectate, "—will be our servants," you say with heavy charmspeak.

They all nod. "Wear those guard uniforms, why don't you?"

They do it.

"In two hours' time you are to bring the prisoners to the throne room, and we will be coronated. Be there, or die." Jason ordered.

Everyone glowers at you and you only stare back as if daring them to do anything.

And just like that, it's your kingdom.

Your kingdom of voices where all you say is loud and clear.

"And why don't we seal our new kingdom?" asks Jason, "properly."

Then you kiss him and everything's a feeling of bliss, like you're floating in the clouds, because your dreams have come true. It's pure love, pure joy, because you're finally the queen.

And the screams of your subjects will never drown out your voice, or Jason's voice, because your voices are loud and clear.

⁂⁂⁂

 **A/N: Inspired by WiseGirlGeek who said she'd like to see some Jason; here you go. This is an AU of the first chapter** — **this is Jason accepting Piper's offer.**

 **More Jiper and angst and terror and darkness next chapter** — **I didn't quite like standalone Piper. Even villains need some romance, don't you think? I will, I'm pretty sure, continue some standalone Dark!Piper, but Dark!Jiper is just...I love it.**

 **Also, the idea of Bunkers Seven, Eight, and One was just me thinking _why'd they make it Nine_? It's really just a way to satiate myself and make secret prisons and throne rooms at CHB more logical.**

 **Sorry for the sort-of late update; I'm generally inactive on the weekends due to constant parent supervision and nagging and schoolwork, but I will update regularly on weekdays.**

 **I** **just want to give a huge _thank-you_ to everyone who reviewed and continues to review on this story or any of my stories in general** — **your support is appreciated.**

 **-readersarethebestwriters**


	3. THREE - CRAZY FOR YOU

**THREE - CRAZY FOR YOU**

⁂⁂⁂

It's your throne. It symbolizes your rule, your voice, your laws. It symbolizes you and your _power_.

It is your _everything._

You wonder if it's healthy to be so reliant on an inanimate object, if it's healthy to be obsessed with something you merely grace by sitting. But you were never one for health and you have never cared about your health and that's not going to change.

Are you crazy? Perhaps. Do you care if you're crazy? Not one bit. Because if you're crazy then Jason is most definitely insane and you take comfort in the fact that you can both be mentally unstable together. You like to be with him, and it's soothing that you can be together, you can rule together.

And likely you are crazy and you feel a little bit of madness around him but the madness is beautiful, because _there's beauty in chaos_ , and if anyone knows about beauty it's you. And if you are beautiful, then you are chaotic. And if you are chaotic then maybe, yes, you are crazy.

It all connects, you realize, like silken threads of spiderwebs that the creature has structured to catch the fly, its pincers poised so as to spread its poison through the body of the fly, to engulf it.

You're feeling an awful lot like Augustus Waters, what with all of your metaphors and connections, with the voices and the spiderwebs.

You are probably crazy but if this is what crazy feels like you don't want to be sane, because crazy feels _amazing_. Crazy feels like the butterflies in your stomach flutter out of your mouth. Crazy is flying out with Jason, the cool, breezy winds lapping at your face. Crazy is trying to sit atop the clouds because _you won't ever go back down_ , even though you know that you have to.

You like being crazy because sane is boring and chaste and formal, while crazy is all out passionate and fun and secure. And maybe crazy is dangerous but you don't mind a little bit of danger.

So you stroke your throne with all of the craziness you can muster because you'll be crazy if you can help it. Your throne's like your pet, it's like your little golden pet, and it won't leave you even if everyone else does.

If your throne was a dog you'd like it to be a Labrador, a golden Labrador, because you think you'd rather fancy the way that its coat would gleam as you let it play fetch.

And you realize that you've gone from _perhaps_ to _maybe_ to _probably_ , so you figure 'why not' and think that yes, _you are definitely crazy_.

And you love it.

⁂⁂⁂

When he walks in he asks you if he's crazy and you wonder if it's all planned or not.

"Why?"

"I went to visit Percy to rub it in his face, because we won, and he told me, 'Jason, you're crazy.'"

"You're not crazy, Jason," you say, "you're _insane_."

His face falls a bit but he looks confused because you're grinning at him like a madman.

"But don't you worry because if you're insane I'm definitely crazy, and that means we can be mentally unstable together."

And then he kisses you and you kiss back, because the feel of his lips on yours is just insane, no other words to describe it.

"You're brilliant," he whispers gently.

"Don't you think I know that already?"

He chuckles.

⁂⁂⁂

One day he takes you flying.

"What do you want to fly for, Jason?" you ask.

"I want to show you," he replies.

Then your hand is in his and his eyes are closed and then—

"Ohmygods, we're flying, ohmygods are we going to fall—Jason, I'm serious—don't let me fall…"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

But it feels so wonderful because you're above everyone else, higher than them, as the winds carry you up because they're like your servants.

You're the queen and he's your king.

And then you can see the clouds and you can _touch_ them.

"Jason, look, I can touch the clouds!" you feel like a little kid again, taking pleasures in the simplest things.

He laughs, an angelic sound, which is quite befitting because you can _touch the clouds, by the gods_. And you have no idea why it feels so weird, like it's an insane sort of thing to do, even though it's quite commonplace for Jason.

"I don't know why it feels so crazy," you say.

"That's probably because you are crazy," he retorts.

"I don't mind being crazy for you, baby."

⁂⁂⁂

 **A/N:**

 **I apparently lied last chapter when I said there'd be terror and angst and darkness in this chapter but I promise that next chapter will have dark Jiper and angst and terror and everything you're hungry for, I just wanted to write something fluffy but dark at the same time. Sue me.**

 **-readersarethebestwriters**


	4. FOUR - KINGDOM OF VOICES

**FOUR - KINGDOM OF VOICES**

⁂⁂⁂

When you look down upon them all you can only think _weaklings_ , the only words that play in your mind are _they aren't strong enough_. But they are useful, so you keep them. You have no interest in killing anyone—genocide was never really your thing, insane you may be.

The weak are an integral part of your kingdom because they fear you, they want to be in control of themselves. It is useless, because you call the shots, you can charmspeak, and they are worthless. Spared to be servants.

"Shall the crown be made, Your Highness?" one asks.

You laugh in their faces.

"I don't want a crown."

They look like they don't know what's going on with you. Truthfully you never wanted a crown in the first placeーbecause crowns can be taken off of a head and placed onto another, and your crown is yours. Thrones are better, you think, for only you sit on it and nobody can force you off it.

The servant's voice is barely a whisper as he replies, "Nーno crown? ErーYour Highnessーyou don't w-want a crown?"

Barely a whisper, you think. Your voice is louder than his; everything is the way it should be.

"No," you say, and compared to their voices, yours is booming, "I do not wish for a crown. Have I not _made myself clear?_ "

They're so intimidated it's hilarious.

"Now, off with you," you dismiss them.

Hurriedly they nod and leaveーyou can still see the fear on their faces.

You laugh even more.

⁂⁂⁂

They're such idiots it isn't even fair.

"Open the cell," you tell one guard.

You walk in, and see the cowering figure of the shamed servant. You see all the other servants along with some guards, all standing for your assistance.

For this job, though, you won't need any assistance.

Your voice is dangerously soft as you speak: "Tell me what happened."

"The guy just looked so thirsty...I noted that he didn't have any water. He looked at me with these pleading green eyesーhow was I supposed to say no to that? So I gave him some water and left…"

Of course Percy would have manipulative pleading green eyes, you think.

A wave of anger flares in you because your servants cannot resist emotion. Your servants are so incompetent that simple eyes could throw them off!

There is, you realize, only one thing you can do.

You need to set an example. So the other servants cannot rebel. So none will be tempted.

You walk toward her, and clasp your hand around the servant's neckーclosing it with increasing force. Your sharp red nails dig into her skin, drawing blood, and she chokes.

"Pーplーleaーsee, yーyouーr Higーghnーess, hーhaーve mーmerーcy," she manages to say. Her breathing is growing more ragged by the second, she's gasping for air, gasping for life.

Your reply is barely a whisper but its danger is again unmistakable.

"I don't have mercy."

"Nーnoーnーnoーpーpleaーseー"

Her voice is cut off by your nails digging deeper into her skin, drawing even more bloodーit looks truly fabulousーshe's going to be bowing down to you in a second. Her body will be bowing down to you; it'll be at your feet.

You lean in a little closer and make sure that the last words she hears are from you.

"Night, night," you whisper in a sing-song tone to her.

Then she stops trying to struggle; her body goes limp. You drop your choke-hold on her and examine your nails.

"This is much too dirty for a queen," you say, tutting. "Wellー" you pause to smile at the horrified servants. "ーI'll just have to get this cleaned up!"

Then you point at a cluster of shaking servants who freeze in fear as your blood-covered nail is upon them.

"Clean this mess, and arrange for a manicure."

They nod and you leave.

You leave the scene of your first kill with no regrets.

⁂⁂⁂

Jason listens with relish as you relay the first kill to him again.

Then, a shaking servant arrives to you.

"IーI bring news, my rulers. Claudia, who was responsible for the cuffs accidentally took them off of Frank Zhang when she was giving him food."

"Again? She's just so clumsy," you say casually.

"Well, then," continues Jason, "you'll just have to take her to the killing room, won't you?"

He presses a kiss to your lips and you wave your hand at the servant in dismissal.

As the girl is beat to death you watch with a smile on your face.

⁂⁂⁂

"Can we water-torture Annabeth personally?" asks Jason.

"Why not? She _has_ tried to break out of her cell for the fifth time already," you say.

As you're dunking her head into the bucket and she gasps for air you savor it beautifully.

Annabeth can barely talk when you're done with her, as she should.

Your voices are the loudest in your kingdom, and the rest should only be able to whisper.

⁂⁂⁂

 **A/N: i'm losing inspiration for this story - I think that the last chapter is going to be the interaction between Percy and Jason in "Crazy For You". i'm not that happy with this chapter but hopefully there's enough darkness here to satiate you.**


	5. FIVE - FATE

**so, i realize it's been** _ **so**_ **long since i updated this fic. sorry about that. but i saw that** _ **like firing**_ **updated** _ **her**_ **dark!jiper and i was reminded of my own. i reread it, cringed at my old grammar, and** _ **finally**_ **realized what was so appealing about this story. also in a bit of a block rn, so i read your reviews (my heart melted at all the kindness, thank you for the praise), rewatched old OUAT episodes (i'm liking s7 so far), and decided to take august's advice and reread old works to get juices flowing. it worked — i'd originally thought this was pretty cringy, but i read it and was like "damn, victoria, you are great at this, wtf were you thinking"**

 _ **tl;dr**_ **: i'm updating after a very enlightening, open-minded reread of this fic. again, i'm in a block, so don't expect much of me except much better grammar and tense use. i'm not sure if or when i'll update this again, we'll see depending on the ideas i've got after writing this chap**

 **(i'm having so much trouble with the second person narration after this long, so again, if there's any third person that's why)**

 **dedicated to** _ **like firing**_ **for the inspo**

. . .

 **FIVE — FATE**

. . .

 _I like fate,_ you think one day. The Fates have always been pretty kind to you. You've never had a problem with money; you've never had much of a problem with love; and, above all, you are a queen.

Yes, fate smiles upon you and Jason. The others — as for the others, well, that's their problem. The _others,_ see, weren't opportunists. The _others_ were trusting.

 _Their problem,_ you smirk inwardly.

It's time for a daily run-through. Stuttering servants bring no noteworthy news, tripping over themselves and their words trying to impress you.

They don't realize they are puny, unimportant, irrelevant, whispering little things. They don't realize you won't be impressed.

 _I haven't been impressed for a while, now. It's boring,_ you realize.

That means it's time for a change.

. . .

"We're lucky," you tell Jason.

"How so?" he asks, bemused.

" _Well,_ " you begin teasingly, "I have _you_ , and I have my _throne,_ and all the others are safe and breaking in _lockup_..."

" _Ahh._ " Jason smiles. "Getting a bit boring now, is it?"

"I could use a little more spice, can't you?"

. . .

You unlock the door.

The whiteness of the room gleams back at you. The girl — no, the _woman_ — inside is also bright, if a little faded from past experiences.

"Piper?" asks Annabeth Chase. "Is that you? No..." Annabeth muses, "it would be you — I don't get visitors, these days."

"Long time," you greet.

"Indeed. How have you been?" Annabeth is polite, this time. She's learned, after the mass escape and the mass return. You are unchallenged.

"Great," you answer. "The kingdom is running smoothly. It's getting...a bit _boring,_ though."

"I see," says Annabeth. "Why are you here? Amusement? Torture?"

"Neither," you say truthfully. "I'm here to talk."

"Why?"

You smile. "The servants are so stuttering and weak. It's lovely with Jason, but eventually, well — I can't always talk to the same people. And I figured after all this time with only the walls to keep you company..."

She smiles, too. The same _bright,_ mad smile from that day long ago. It adds to the blinding _whiteness_ of the room. "Something symbiotic. I don't deny I could use company. But _the likes of you..._ "

"You're in no position to be acting pricey, Chase."

"I'm too proud to _not_ be pricey, McLean," she retorts.

"Sharp mouth," you say. "If you _insist,_ I'm not that terrible of a host. I suppose for your trouble, you can have a few minutes with Jackson."

She brightens a little more at that. Then she narrows her eyes in suspicion.

Again, Annabeth asks, " _Why?_ "

"I told you — I'm not that terrible of a host," you reply, and glide out of the room. The door shuts with a small, resounding _click_.

. . .

"I talked to Annabeth today."

"I talked to Percy today."

You and Jason have the same idea.

"I granted them an audience with each other," you both say at the same time. You laugh.

"We're pretty starved for company," you say after a pause.

"We are," Jason agrees.

There's another pause again.

Finally: "I like it," you admit.

Jason leans in for a kiss, and again you're struck by how lucky you are.

You have love with this opposite. You are light, flashing erratically — he's darkness, still, stagnant, but capable of variation. You're color, bright color; you need more grayscale. He's grayscale, simple and minimalistic; he needs more color. Together you make one soul. Together, you're at your best.

Together, you and Jason form a harmony when you sing — in your voices a little bit of the madness leaks through, and in your souls the madness digs deeper down until you know what you are and you accept it, until you acknowledge you're crazy and utterly nonsensical and extremely ambitious — until you learn to like it.

The others, you see, they whisper. They've always whispered. But now, in this song of fate, their whispers are background music.

You accept this idea. You like it. You accept Jason's kiss — you like it.

. . .

"You're quite lucky, Piper." Annabeth smiles.

"That I am, Annabeth."

"You're not pining for the one you love sitting in a bright cell. At least you acknowledge it."

"Yes, I do," you say. "The Fates will smile upon us, me and Jason. For this place is _our_ throne and _our_ kingdom, and _our_ insanity. I like it."

"You do. We don't."

"It doesn't matter what you like. You're background noise. All you can do is whisper."

"Can I?"

You don't stick around to answer her.

. . .

This place is yours. It's wonderful. Your throne gleams in the sunlight and the rest are subservient, and — yes, it's wonderful.

You're wonderful. Jason's wonderful. It's a dangerous kind of wonderful; it's the kind of wonderful you love — the kind you live for.

Everything here is a dangerous kind of wonderful. Your fates are dangerously wonderful, too. Dangerously wonderful is the insanity you have and cannot ignore. Dangerously wonderful is traversing uncharted waters with the prisoners.

Uncharted waters either result in death or new discoveries. And you're lucky. So you'll sail those waters, dangerously wonderful waters, and hope for something new, some new twist of excitement.

It's your kingdom, after all, and everything is as it should be. You and Jason sing in the lead — lucky, smiling fate, _dangerously wonderful_ — and everything and everyone else is either silent or simple background noise.


	6. SIX - YOU ARE CRAZY

**SIX — YOU ARE CRAZY**

. . .

Perseus Jackson is waiting for you in the silence.

"Jason," he says, and his voice reverberates through the room, echoing.

"Percy," you reply, unsettled. He's loud. "I hope you know what I'm here for."

"I do." Perseus looks at peace.

You throw the air into his face, feeling it _rip_ at him, feeling his screams. He shrieks, "Jason, I will get you for this!"

"No longer," you say quietly. You make the gales stronger. Stronger. And stronger.

"What are you doing, Jason? You're —" he cuts himself off with a strong fit of coughing your air in.

"You're — you're crazy," screeches Percy with pain. "Crazy, Jason. You're absolutely mad."

The idea is an odd thing. You find yourself unnerved yet again.

"Quiet, Jackson," you reply instead. "Or shall I make you shut up?"

You do.

 **a/n: yeah, this is really short compared to the other parts of this story, but i wanted to write something for this so here you go. i don't really have the capacity to write more for this story, so expect fluctuating chapter sizes when i do update.**


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